Understanding Puckett
by samandfreddie38
Summary: Freddie accidentally makes Sam open up about her past. But is she glad that he knows? Sam&Freddie one-shot.


**So we had to write something for writing workshop in English class and instead I came up with this…xD**

**Tell me what you think! I don't own iCarly.**

**This fic kinda goes well with "I'd Be Lying" by Greg Laswell. I seriously LOVE this guy.**

* * *

SAM POV

"Roses are red, violets are blue; I would take off my shirt for you."

I snickered along with the rest of the class as Gibby finished presenting his poem, last night's English homework assignment. I sat next to Freddork during this period, so yeah; this class was torture.

I saw Mrs. Falker rub her forehead with two fingers and motion for the shirtless wonder to take a seat. He received high fives from random guys on the way back.

"…Thank you…Gibby..." she finally said, sighing. "Alright, who wants to share their poem next?"

The entire class hid their faces behind their hands.

Okay, the fact that our English teacher made us write a poem for homework was stupid. What were we; second graders? But nevertheless I had actually done the assignment this time. Believe me, I'm shocked too.

I leaned over towards the nerd and whispered, "Anyone could top _that_ stupid poem."

He smirked at me. "Oh yeah? Even your nonexistent poem?"

"Shut up. Of course it would."

His grin got wider, and so did my eyes as I realized what he was about to do. Before I could slap my hand covering my face over his mouth, he blurted: "Mrs. Falker; Sam wants to go!"

"Dude!" I hissed, giving him one of my famous death glares. He smiled evilly.

"Sam?" Mrs. Falker asked. "You actually did the assignment?"

I saw Frednerd open his mouth to say 'no, of course not'. Being the idiot I am, I nodded. "Actually, yeah."

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT_ UP! I frantically thought to myself.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Freddie look at me incredulously. "Really?" my teacher responded.

"_Really_?" Freddie echoed, a confused look on his face. I glared at him again. This was all his fault.

"Well, then, come up to the front and share it with the class."

_Oh no, oh no…Think fast Puckett! Say something!_

"Uh…I'd rather not."

"How do I know that you've done the assignment then?"

You know, come to think of it, I should have let her give me an F for the homework. But at the moment, I really didn't feel like failing the class and taking summer school.

I grumbled unintelligibly to myself as I ripped a sheet of crumpled paper out of my backpack. It seemed like I was walking in slow motion. I really didn't want to do this.

I heard the class snicker, probably thinking that the infamous Sam Puckett was going to wing it again. I felt my cheeks heat up. The sweatshirt I had on seemed to be suffocating me.

I officially hated Mrs. Falker. And Fredward Benson.

Her eyebrows were still raised, wondering if I actually _had_ done the homework.

When I started to read, much to my mortification, her eyebrows shot up even further.

* * *

_She wakes up_

_Sleep threatening_

_To glue her eyes shut together_

_Forever._

_She gingerly pushes the thin sheets off of her skin_

_She notices the twinge in her right shoulder_

_Her thin legs swing over the side of the bed_

_She feels the searing pain in her upper thighs_

_Her feet come in contact with the rigid carpet_

_She grimaces at the strain in her ankle_

_She balances her delicate weight on her tender toes_

_Her head throbs and spins_

_She wobbles on fragile sticks for legs_

_But immediately is frozen on the spot_

_As she hears those thuds_

_Signaling his eminent return._

_She cowers within herself_

_Her eyes race, trying to find a refuge_

_Although she has done this very thing_

_Hundreds of times over, never finding one._

_His shadow is visible in the hallway_

_She wants to close her bedroom door_

_But she cannot move_

_She is frozen._

_He enters the room_

_His towering figure looming above her shaking one_

_She sees his rigid and calloused fist rise in the air_

_Her eyes close, waiting for what is soon to come._

_Hours go by_

_He leaves_

_She hurts_

_The cycle begins again._

_She sleeps_

_She wakes up_

_He comes_

_He leaves._

_One day, she wakes up_

_She is afraid to leave from beneath the covers_

_Knowing he will return as soon as she does_

_But an hour passes, and he does not come_

_She is bewildered._

_She hesitates and crawls from her escape_

_Out into the hallway of the monster_

_But he isn't there._

_Her mother is in the kitchen_

_He is not._

_She finds her voice_

_Her mother replies_

_No more him._

_No more monster._

_No more pain._

_No more fear._

_She runs into her room and cries._

* * *

I finished reading, my face beet red by then. "Um…that's it." The class was dead silent. I swear I thought I heard a pin drop.

Mrs. Falker cleared her throat after a while and rose from her chair. "Great, Sam. Excellent. Didn't know you had it in you."

_Well, now you do, and so does the rest of the class thanks to you and the dork!_

I sat down and avoided eye contact with the nub, who I could tell was gawking at me with an open mouth and huge eyes. I had never felt so embarrassed or weak in my entire life.

This is what I get for doing my homework.

* * *

FREDDIE POV

I watched her sit down, dumbfounded. She _wrote_ that?

Wow.

Just…wow.

The way she read it…it was like she didn't even need the piece of paper to say the words. Her voice cracked a little during a few parts. I saw her eyes shimmer once.

And now, her face as red as a tomato, she was slumped in her seat, avoiding everyone's eyes. They were as shocked as I was, I'm sure.

The bell rang, and Mrs. Falker shouted out the homework for Friday, considering the fact that it was Thursday. Sam bolted out of her seat and raced into the hallway. I struggled to follow her, lugging my heavy backpack on my shoulder.

I saw her blonde hair whirl around the corner and bob down the stairs leading towards her locker.

As I ran up to her, she furiously slammed her locker door open. Carly came up to her from the opposite direction. Half-grinning, she asked, "What's up, Slammy?"

Sam actually glared at her and replied, "I am NOT in the mood."

Carly looked taken aback and unwilling to speak up again. So I did.

"Sam, I don't get why you're mad. That poem was amazing!"

She shot daggers at me through her eyes.

"Wait, what? You wrote a _poem_?" Carly said.

"Gee, Fredweird. Tell the rest of the world, why don't'cha?"

Why was she so mad at me? "Dude, what is _up_ with you?"

She didn't answer my question, but snarled, "I. Hate. You." She slammed her locker shut and stalked off.

Carly turned to me with wide eyes. "Dude! What did you _do_?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I dunno…I just made her read a poem she did for homework in front of the English class…"

I then realized how stupid that must have sounded.

"You did _what_?"

"Gah! Fine; I'll go apologize!"

I wheeled around, rapidly stopped by my locker to exchange books, and left the school since English was last period.

Destination? The Puckett residence. Reason? To apologize for something I wasn't sure was so bad. Emotion of the moment? Terrified.

My back was practically broken by the time I got there because of my heavy backpack. No wonder Sam spends so much time over at Carly's after school. Her house was miles away.

I looked for the doorbell but saw that it had been ripped from the wall.

An anxious feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

I knocked on the door and waited, wondering if Sam was even home. Maybe she had gone to the Groovy Smoothie, or Gallini's Pie Shop, or-

A tall blonde swung the door open.

I swallowed and found my voice. "Um, is your daughter home?"

Her eyebrows raised. "Are you the one that made her rip the doorbell off the wall a few minutes ago?"

_She _did that_?_ I immediately wished that Sam wasn't still there.

"Um, maybe..?"

Her eyebrows raised again. I felt my face heat up. I never really liked Sam's mom.

"She's in her room. Try not to cause her to rip her door off the hinges or something. I'm not made out of money."

Great. She was home.

I left my backpack in the living room and walked slowly down the hallway, my heart having its own little dance contest in my chest. My palms were sweating.

I immediately chided myself. All I was doing was apologizing for something…I don't even know what I did! Why was I freaking out over this?

I heard loud music coming from her room. I peeked through the doorway and her back was to me, her face focused on her computer screen. I swallowed hard and tapped my hand on the wall.

Her chair whirled around. Her face looked like I had scared the living ladybugs out of her. "Dude! Get out!" she snapped.

"Not until you tell me why you freaked out."

She got up menacingly out of her chair. "Do I _need_ to use force? I said and I repeat. Get. _Out_."

"Sam, come on. You can tell me anything."

A brief and sad look passed over her features. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. She shook her head but didn't say a word.

"Yes, you _can_." I affirmed.

Sam set her jaw, intent on keeping a mean expression on her face. She suddenly walked across the room to her backpack and yanked out a piece of paper. Coming up to me, she growled, "If you want to dissect my life, go right ahead. Just don't force me to watch." She shoved the paper into my hand, pushed me into the hallway, and slammed her door shut.

That was when I realized that Sam was about to break down. She only gave in because she wanted me gone, unable to see her in a vulnerable state.

I knocked on the door. "Sam, come on. Let me in." The music increased in volume in response, so I decided to give up. I reread the poem as I walked into the living room.

Sam's mother looked up from the couch. "What's that?"

I didn't have time to respond before she shot up from the couch and ripped the paper out of my hands. I saw her eyes shift right to left and widen as she read her daughter's poem. Her mouth opened once or twice. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she looked at me. "Did…did _she_ write this?"

I nodded dumbly.

Her eyes suddenly got hard and glassy. She shoved the piece of paper at my chest. "Take this and get out. _NOW_."

Since I wasn't about to argue, I raced over towards my backpack and hightailed it out of there.

And when I got to my apartment, I sat down and reread the poem over and over and over again.

Things suddenly started making sense.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY; FREDDIE POV

I doubted Sam would come to school that day, but when I saw her at her locker early that morning before first period, I sprinted up to her. Waving the paper in my hand, I blurted, "Was it _you_?"

She looked startled and embarrassed at my sudden appearance. She turned back to her locker and replied, "Leave me alone."

"Sam, please tell me."

She slammed her locker shut and gave me an unbelieving look. "Why would I tell _you_?"

"Because even though you torture me all the time and we almost never get along, we're still best friends. And even though I still have bruises and scars from your attacks we still care about each other."

She opened her mouth to contradict what I just disclosed, so I immediately said, "Don't even _try _denying that, Sam."

Her mouth shut. She half-glared and half-stared at me. I could practically see her wonder if she could trust me.

"You can trust me, Sam. It's just me. The nub," I encouraged.

Instead of laughing or grinning or whatever, she looked away and muttered, "Yeah."

"Yeah…it was you?"

She nodded sullenly.

I looked around, noticing more students filing into the hallway to get ready for first period. I grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled her into a janitor's closet nearby.

"Dude, why-"

"It's a little more private than the hallway, don't you think?"

She shrugged, knowing I had won.

"So…it _was _you…" I tried starting the conversation again.

"I only said that about fifteen times, dork."

I then asked her what had been haunting me the night before.

"When you wrote that your…upper thighs hurt…um, did you mean…did your dad…um…"

Her eyes widened when she realized what I was getting at. "NO!" She practically yelled. "No," she said softer. "He…he did many things but…not _that_." She looked down. "He loved hitting me there, though."

My heart split. How long did she have to deal with this?

"Why did he leave?" _Careful, Freddie. You're crossing into dangerous territory._

"Many reasons. That I don't feel like talking about."

Her walls were back up.

"It happened, it's over. I've moved on with life. I deal with stuff like this all the time. It's nothing."

"Then why did you cry when he left?" I mentally slapped a hand over my mouth.

She bit her lip and decided to reply after a while. "Freddie, he was still my dad. I was young. When your dad leaves the family, you don't throw a party. Even if he hurt you in more ways than one."

She turned around and exited the closet. I heard the first bell ring.

It suddenly hit me. Hard.

She called me 'Freddie'.

* * *

ONE MONTH LATER; FREDDIE POV

A while has passed. She's never spoken of the poem or what it means since.

I've done a lot of thinking since then.

I don't _really_ know Sam. She has a past that she hides from Carly, Spencer, and the rest of the world. It would still be hidden from me if I hadn't been at the right place at the right time.

I'm not one to judge people. But I judged her. I assumed she was mean and violent just because she felt like it. She was sarcastic and bitter for the heck of it. There was no reason behind it all.

Boy, was I wrong.

She has changed in my eyes. She is different. I can see a vulnerable side of Sam. Behind her walls, there is a life not wanting to be discovered. My eyes have been _opened_.

Believe me; I've _wanted_ to talk to her about what happened. But I can tell that she doesn't, and that's okay with me.

You know, sometimes she gives me passing looks or quick smiles that no one else sees. Somehow I know that she's thanking me, letting me know that in a way she's glad that I know. She's glad that I lifted a burden off of her shoulders. Glad that she let herself trust me.

And deep down, I know that we are more than just best friends. I can tell from the way she looks at me that she knows too. But she doesn't bring up what happened, and in her own silent way she lets me know that she isn't ready yet.

And that's okay. I'll wait for her. If I have to wait multiple years, I will. If I have to wait the rest of my _life_ for her, I will.

For right now, our mute communication is enough, because somehow I know what she's trying to say. And she knows how I feel. Smiles and smirks are enough right now.

Because she's Sam. And I'm Freddie. And only when she's ready, I will love her. I will protect her. I will allow her to open up as she wishes, and I will keep her secrets.

I will understand Puckett.

* * *

**Eh, I don't really like how this turned out...but...hmm. What did you think?**

**Thanks for reading!**


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